


mr moonlight

by orphan_account



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: ....again, Cute, Falling In Love, Fluff, Getting Together, Implied mental illness, M/M, but it doesnt go too deep really, well its more like theyre realising that theyre in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 10:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19850815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: They’re not dating. George doesn’t really know what to call it. Will leaves his socks at their flat, and sleeps in his bed, and knows what brand of loo roll they buy, but they’re not dating. They’re in the weird empty space between ‘best friends’ and ‘boyfriends’, the one where they hold hands for too long and share drinks and wake up in each other’s clothes.





	mr moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy! sorry that i write george being sad so much lol
> 
> [heres a song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZQ8nWZJrhA). if u want it. its a good song.
> 
> ALSO this is a birthday present for one of my best friends I LOVE U HAPPY BIRTHDAY DARLING

“George?”

George hums an acknowledgement, Will’s voice tugging him from his thoughts. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t look away from the pink-orange-yellow of the early morning sun. His fingernails pick at the loose stones on the wall he’s sitting on.

“What are you- what are you doing up here?” Will asks. “‘S a bit high up.”

George shrugs. “Dunno. Just… couldn’t sleep. Why are you up here?”

“Alex said he hadn’t seen you all day,” Will says. George feels him move behind him, and then Will’s arm wraps around his stomach, pulling him back into his chest. “We’re a bit worried, mate.”

“I’m fine,” George says. “Just needed a bit of time away, I guess.”

“Sitting on top of our very tall building? Not very safe, G.”

George shrugs. “You’re here now.”

Will breathes out a laugh, and George feels it roll through his hair. “Yeah. You been up here all day and night then?”

“Guess so.”

“You haven’t slept or eaten?” Will asks. George can hear his frown.

“Guess not.”

“George,” Will breathes, all shaded in with disappointment. “Come on. Come back down with me, we’ll sort you out.”

“‘M not hungry. Or tired,” George murmurs, but he lets Will pull him backwards off the wall and just sort of hold him for a few minutes. It’s nice. Will is so much taller and… lankier than him that it almost feels like he’s caged in, like he’s safe. 

“Yeah, you are,” Will whispers, in his ear. “Come on. Inside. It’s fucking cold.” 

“‘S not cold,” George says, as Will tangles their fingers together and leads him towards the stairs down. “You’re just weak.”

Will just laughs. “Yeah, alright. That doesn’t make it any warmer, mate. Alex and James got a Chinese last night and left the prawn crackers for you. Know they’re your favourite.”

“Alex got Chinese without me?” George asks.

“No one knew where you were, mate,” Will says gently, starting down the stairs, still golding George’s hand.. “Did a great job at disappearing off the face of the earth for twenty four hours, you did. We’re gonna talk about that, by the way.”

“Did no one think to check the roof?” George asks. “You’ve found me up there before.”

“Guess we were too worried to think clearly,” Will says. George stops suddenly, halfway down, forcing Will to pause too and turn back to look at him.

Standing like this, George on the step above Will’s, they’re almost the same height. He can look at his eyes, instead of up at them. “Really?”

Will’s face softens. “Yes, Georgie. Really.” He squeezes their hands together, like a promise. “Really, really.”

George chokes out a smile. Everything feels fragile, tender and delicate, and the stairs feel like they’re falling out from underneath him. His breathe shakes, his lungs trembling inside his ribcage. He feels his eyes fill with salty tears, and he’s not sure why, but they sting like tiny knives. 

“George?” Will asks, voice drenched in concern. “Hey. Hey, it’s okay.” He pulls George into his arms, forcing him to slip down onto the lower step.

“I- I’m sorry,” George breathes, “I don’t know why I… I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to know, yeah?” Will says. George thinks he feels him press a kiss to his forehead, but it happens so fast that he can barely remember it. “You don’t have to know. Sometimes we just need to cry. We can talk about it if you want, but first lets go down to yours, and we’ll find those prawn crackers, and watch the new season of Stranger Things, or something, yeah?”

George nods. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Will smiles at him, re-intertwining their hands and leading him down the rest of the stairs and to the lift.

They don’t talk on the way down, not until they get to his and Alex’s apartment and Will turns to him to ask for the keys. George shakes his head, because they’re hanging on the hook by the door that had taken Alex an entire afternoon to figure out how to put up. Will just nods and pulls out his own key fob, and George has never been so glad that they decided to give Will and James the spare keys.

The apartment is quiet and familiar, almost exactly how he left it. Alex’s trainers kicked off at the door, landed haphazardly (right next to James’s, which are perfectly aligned), their coat rack empty of all coats except a forgotten hoodie that looks less like one of his or Alex’s and more like one of Will’s. The lamp in the corner of the living room is on, and the TV too, left on a saving screen.

James has left his phone on the kitchen counter, next to the kettle, which is next to the battery pack for Alex’s camera and a spare SD card, and everything looks… normal. Normal.

He stands in the doorway for probably too long, staring at everything like he’s never seen it before in his life. Will pushes past to put the kettle on and rustle through the cupboards, looking for mugs and tea bags and packets of crisps. George watches him pull out a crumpled looking six pack of Hula Hoops from the back of the cupboard, look at the date on them and grimace.

“Alex bought them,” George says, jerking back into gear. He toes his shoes off, leaving them at the door (neater than Alex’s, messier than James). “Don’t know when.”

“Apparently, when you first moved in,” Will says, turning to smile at him. “Which was, what, a year ago?”

George wrinkles his nose. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Will says, making a face. “Go ‘nd sit down, George. You look dead on your feet.”

“‘M fine,” George says, moving across to hop up on top of the counter. “Is Alex here?”

“He was when I left, with James,” Will says, setting down the mugs. “So I’d be surprised if they’ve left. It’s five in the morning, so they’re probably asleep.”

“Five?” George asks, bringing his feet up to cross his legs on the counter. “Really?”

“Mhm. And that’s unhygienic, you know,” Will says, patting his thigh before turning back to the kettle.

George shrugs. “I’ll clean it later, then.”

Will smiles at him. George watches it in the reflection of the toaster, slightly warped and stained a musty grey, but all the more beautiful for it.

“Will…”

“Yeah?” Will doesn’t turn, focusing on pouring the water into their mugs.

George breathes out. It feels like his soul breathes out with them. “Doesn’t matter.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry.”

* * *

George knows they’re close, for friends. They’re touchy-feely, they act like mirrors of Alex and James sometimes, he knows. He knows what it’s doing to his heart, and his brain, too, and it tears him in two. He hates it.

He thinks he hates it. But he loves Will.

He loves Will.

George sighs. It’s too early, too late, a painful combination of the two that turns his head on its feet, for this. For whatever this is, unprecedented realisations of love, ones that he’d rather not have. Although, he supposes, it’s not really a realisation. He’s always known this.

He’s always known that Will would be it for him, that Will was always going to be it for him. Nothing comes before, nor after him, not anymore. He knows he’s always known that. Of course he’s always known that.

It sounds different when he says it aloud, though. Tastes different, feels different. Like there’s some kind of physicality to the words, like he can reach out and mould them into whatever he wants. 

It’s odd. And new. And he’s not sure he likes it, likes the foreign weight on his heart, pushing on his brain. But it’s almost comforting, almost familiar, enough so that it doesn’t feel entirely otherworldly when it breathes in his lungs for him.

Waking up to Will in his bed, asleep on the sofa, pottering around the kitchen, has become common place. It fucks with his head, but Alex is enamoured in James and entirely distracted by whatever he’s calling the effects of Cupid’s arrow (George thinks its all rubbish). It means that he’s suddenly rendered incapable of doing Normal Everyday Things, and that means that Will is around more often, trying to take care of the three of them and himself all at once.

It’s not like he’s particularly complaining. It’s not like waking up with Will’s arms wrapped around him is an unwelcome scenario, really. It just… confuses him. Makes his heart work harder than it has in a while. 

Because he loves Will. A lot of things are becoming ‘because Will’. It’s almost amusing how no one’s noticed yet.

* * *

The comments start about two weeks after the ones about Alex and James clear up. It was only to be expected, how he and Will are doing more together, sitting closer together, looking at each other for longer, and it’s hard to pass those things off as friends.

But they’re not dating. George doesn’t know what to call it. Will leaves his socks at their flat, and sleeps in his bed, and knows what brand of loo roll they buy, but they’re not dating. They’re in the weird empty space between ‘best friends’ and ‘boyfriends’, the one where they hold hands for too long and share drinks and wake up in each other’s clothes.

George isn’t sure what to make of it. But seeing it written out in comments under his videos - ‘george and will seem sooo close theyre so cute xD’ - puts it into perspective. Puts it straight in his mind, and he can’t remove it. Like digging up a weed. A really, really persistent weed.

He reads through the comments more, almost paranoid, breaking every Youtube rule Alex had set after one too many breakdowns. He doesn’t tell Alex, obviously, doesn’t tell James or Will or Fraser, either. He doesn’t know what they’d do if they knew, because it’s come to some unanimous agreement that if George is reading Youtube comments, then he needs a break, and he doesn’t need a break.

He supposes it’s because they care. He knows it’s because they care. Ever since Will came to find him on the roof things have felt tantalisingly close and painfully far, further than ever, and its a combination of feelings that George isn’t really sure how to understand, or what to do about them.

He wants to talk to Will. Properly talk to Will. But he doesn’t know what to say. And that, he thinks, is the worst part.

* * *

George goes back to the rooftop that evening, to think. To clear his head. To wait and see if someone will come and find him. Or if they won’t. To think about words that he’ll never have the chance to say, or to listen to the ones he’ll never hear in return.

He sits on the same wall as last time, letting his legs dangle over the edge, watching the sun set. It burns his eyes, making them water until he can’t tell what’s tears and what isn’t. 

He isn’t sure why he’s crying, what he’s crying for. His heart feels like it’s mourning memories it’s never had, and it’s an entirely unique feeling - one that he doesn’t particularly like. There are a lot of things he doesn’t like about love, about falling in it and falling out of it, about watching it and feeling it and doing it; the odd, unwelcome feelings are probably top of the list.

It takes a thousand played out conversations and the entire sunset for someone to come looking for him, and James sits down behind him, on the ground.

“Well, then?”

“Well, what, then?” George asks, not turning around. Its a clear night, and he can just about see the beginnings of stars appearing on the horizon.

James breathes out behind him. “What happened? Why are you up here, alone, sounding like you’ve been crying for about three hours?”

“Haven’t been crying for three hours,” George says, “Just one.”

“George…” James says, an uncomfortable mix of disappointment and sympathy colouring his tone. “We all love you, you know? We’re all here for you.”

“I know.”

James continues like he never spoke, “Me, ‘nd Alex, Fraser, especially Will, we all care. We all care about you. You do know that, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“You know we tell you not to read the Youtube comments and stuff for a reason? And that we tell you to talk to us for a reason? That we all do these things for each other for a reason?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Because we care,” James says, “about you. About each other. We love you. And if you’re struggling with something, we’d really like to be able to help you with it.”

“I know, James,” George murmurs, pulling his legs up to tuck his knees under his chin. “I do know that.”

“Then why won’t you let us help, George?”

George breathes in sharply, shakily. “Because I… I don’t know,” he says, trying his absolute hardest not to cry again. The tears filter through to his tone anyway, because they always do, and they turn it wobbly and cracked and then James is wrapping his arms around him and George is sobbing into his shoulder.

Hugging James is different to Will. They’re almost the same height, but James is softer where Will is sharp edges, James has wider shoulders and thicker arms and longer hands, whereas Will is skinny, and lanky, with stick figure fingers.

“Tell me what’s wrong, G,” James whispers into his hair. “Tell me.”

“I love him,” George says, the words tearing themselves from his lips like they have a life of their own, “I love Will, and I don’t think he loves me back and I don’t know what to do.”

His heart breaks so loud he’s sure James must hear it, and he starts to say something but George can’t hear it over his own sobs. Saying it to new ears makes it all the more real, and that makes his heart ache even more.

* * *

They go back inside eventually, once George has cried himself dry and James’s hoodie is stiff with tears. He doesn’t seem to mind, letting George lead the way down the stairs and using the spare key to unlock the door.

Alex is asleep on the sofa when they get in, Will sitting next to him on his phone. They’re both illuminated by the blue screensaver on the TV, and on most people, George is sure it wouldn’t do them any favours. But on Will, it looks nice. It looks good, almost.

Will turns when James shuts the door, his eyes lighting up. “Hey. You okay? You were both out for quite a while.”

“We’re fine,” James says, nudging George. “Hey, I’ll take Alex to bed now. You two don’t stay up too late, okay?”

George bites his lip, watching James move across the room to scoop Alex up in his arms. He doesn’t stir, thankfully, and the look James gives him makes George’s stomach flip flop.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, mate,” Will says. “Sleep well, yeah?”

“You too,” James says, smiling back at them before disappearing into Alex’s room.

Will smiles over at George. “Come here, then. Come sit with me. Feels like I’ve barely seen you today.”

George turns his lips up at the floor, shuffling over to sit on the sofa. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You alright? You look like you’ve been crying,” Will says, reaching out to turn George’s face towards him, brushing the pad of his thumb under George’s eye. 

“‘M fine. Just… just talking to James. He, um, said some stuff that I need to hear, I think. Sorry for worrying you all,” George says, deliberately not meeting Will’s eye. “Listen, I uh… I have something I need to tell you.”

Will frowns. “Okay. Is it- is it bad?”

“No! Well, I hope not,” George says. His heart jumps from his feet, to his throat, and back again. “I just… Will, I…”

“You…?”

“Iloveyou,” he says, all in a rush. Too quiet, too fast.

“You what?”

“I… love you,” George repeats, slowly. His fingers twist themselves up in the strings of his hoodie. “‘Nd I’m sorry. If you, um, don’t feel the same back. But James said I should tell you, and I guess he’s right, ‘cause this is ruining me and I don’t know what to do about it, but I love you. I really love you.”

He hears Will breath out heavily.

“George…”

“‘M sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” Will says, using his fingertips to coax George to look up at him. “Just… Jesus, George,” he blinks slowly. “I love you, too, you fucking idiot.”

George feels his heart freeze. “Wh- what?”

Will giggles, almost hysterically. “I love you, too,” he repeats. “How could I not? George…”

“You do?”

“Of course I do,” Will says, moving his hand to cup George’s cheek. “Of course I do. I don’t know how you think I couldn’t.”

“I just… never expected you to- to feel the same back,” George murmurs, “I mean, James said you would, but I didn’t believe him, and God, I’ve wanted to just kiss you for so long. For so long, Will.”

“Then kiss me,” Will says, he whispers, and George can almost see the words, can see them forming shapes in the air in front of them, and none of that matters as soon as he leans forward because then Will’s kissing him, and he’s kissing back and everything falls away until his every sense is just full of Will.

They knock the remote off of the arm of the couch when George crawls over to climb into Will’s lap, and they both freeze, waiting for Alex and James to stir. They don’t, and Will giggles, breathing a laugh across George’s lips, and he kisses him again. Because there’s nothing else he could ever want to do.

* * *

They fall asleep on the sofa, George sprawled on top of Will, and George only remembers falling asleep once he’s woken up. The sun is streaming in through the windows, blurring around the blinds. It’s soft enough that it doesn’t hurt his eyes any.

Will is still sleeping, breathing lightly. George watches his eyes twitch under his eyelids for a bit, thinking about whatever he must be dreaming about. He looks at peace. It makes George feel at peace too.

“Morning,” Alex whispers, over the back of the sofa. “Oh- Is Will still asleep?”

George nods, glancing over to meet Alex’s eye. He doesn’t particularly want to sit up right now, but he does anyway, moving so he’s sat between Will’s legs, rather than spread across his whole body. “Yeah. How’d you sleep?”

Alex smiles. Blushes slightly, a tinge of sleepy pink dusting across his cheekbones. “Yeah, good. James is still asleep, too. Are you… okay? After last night?”

“Mm,” George hums. “Yeah. I think. James, uh, James told me to talk to Will. So I guess things are alright for now.”

Alex’s eyes light up. “You talked to him? What- what happened?”

George smiles, a mix of triumphant and humble, slightly embarrassed. “Well, I told him that I, um, loved him. And he said it back, and then we sort of… kissed a bit.”

“No way,” Alex says, his mouth falling open. “Oh my God! I’m so happy for you,” his eyes soften. “You both deserve this.”

“Shut up,” George mumbles, but there’s some sort of happy feeling bubbling up in his stomach and he can’t quite push it down. “Thanks.”

“We have to celebrate,” Alex declares.

“What-? No-”

“Yes. We’ll go out, for dinner or something. We have to. James and I have been waiting for this for ages, mate,” Alex talks over him, “Come on. I’ll book a table at Zizzi’s or something, and if you and Will don’t turn up, I’ll move out.”

“Move out-? Fuck’s sake. Fine,” George says, because most of the time, it’s better to just let Alex have his fun. “Fine. We’ll go. But there’s nothing to celebrate.”

“Dunno what you mean. There’s everything to celebrate,” Alex says, grinning widely. “Everything, mate.”

George just rolls his eyes and flops back down onto Will’s chest. If he’s waiting for him to wake up, he may as well doze back to sleep. He hears Alex tiptoe around the kitchen and then patter back to his room, and the morning passes at 300% speed.

* * *

James and Alex are curled together on the armchair, looking thoroughly in love, when George next wakes up. Will is sitting up behind him, too, brushing his fingers through George’s hair and scrolling through his phone.

Alex is rattling on about something or other, George isn’t sure, but it provides a monotone backing track whilst his brain switches on again. And it’s nice.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Will whispers, smiling down at him. “Took you long enough.”

George hums something under his breath - he’s not sure even he knows what he says. “What time is it?”

“Half two,” Alex says, smiling at him. He looks relaxed, happy. George decides he looks good in love. “I booked Zizzi’s for half six.”

George groans. It’s not like he doubted that Alex would do it. And it’s not like he has a problem with going. They’re just playing parts, and he’s playing up his. “Who’s going, then?”

“Just us four,” Alex says, “Fraser’s working on a video so he can’t.”

“Mm. Okay,” George says, leaning further back into Will. It feels almost like he was meant to be there, like he was made to fit in-between his shoulder blades, like there was never anywhere else for him.

“Okay?” Will repeats, almost in a whisper but just about not. Words for them, words that say one thing but mean another. Like he’s speaking in riddles and rhymes and dolled up languages, but it’s okay because George knows how to speak it.

“Yeah,” George says, “Okay.” Because it is, because he is, because one day it will be, because he’s not sure yet. But Alex is happy and so is he, and it feels like he’s floating inside of their little flat. Like he’s on top of the world, on top of the little world they’ve made just for them. And maybe, just maybe, this is where he was always meant to be.

* * *

Zizzi’s is as it always is - warm enough to steam up Will’s glasses (and such a rarity it is that he wears them. George finds himself savouring every moment; he’d be a fool not to. Perhaps he’s playing into stereotypes, falling long and hard for the tall man in the glasses, but he decides he doesn’t care.), and dark enough that he can only just see everyone’s features above the amber yellow glow of the few lights there are. 

Alex looks happy, his features all smoothed out and eyes sparkling. George doesn’t think James has let go of his hand all evening. 

Will looks happy too, bashful and blissed out. He lets George take the lead, doesn’t take his eyes off of him all evening. It settles something heavy and warm and comforting in the pit of his stomach, something he thinks he likes. 

“So, then?” James asks, after their drinks have arrived. The words sound weighted, like there’s a million other meanings.

“So what, mate?” Will says. His body is directed towards George’s, in a way that makes him feel the centre of attention. 

James smiles. George watches him squeeze Alex’s hand under the table. “Sooo… when did this become a thing?”

“Who says its a thing,” George says. 

“‘M not stupid,” James says, “It’s kind of obvious.”

Will catches his eye, grinning underneath a hundred hidden meanings. “Is it?”

Alex giggles. “Yeah. A bit. I’m happy for you both.”

“It’s only been a  _ day _ ,” George says, frowning slightly. 

“I don’t want to even think what you’ll be like after a couple of weeks,” James says. “But yeah, what Alex said. I’m happy for you both. Took you long enough, really.”

Will chuckles, “yeah, yeah. Alright, mate.”

Alex lifts his glass, curling his fingers around the stem. “Come on, then. Here’s to happy endings.”

George rolls his eyes, lifting his glass too. “Yeah, okay. To happy endings.”

* * *

Being in love with Will, George thinks, is one of his best decisions in the world. He’s never regretted anything less, never wanted anything more. Waking up with Will at his fingertips is the best thing that could have ever happened to him, ever. And he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Having Will be in love right back, he thinks, is even better. Because they wake up together, legs tangled together until he can’t tell where he ends and Will begins. Their hearts start beating in time together, and it’s so, so good. George doesn’t know what he would do without it.

Things change, after they get together. Only slightly, but enough to be noticeable. George learns that Will has a terrible habit of drinking juice straight from the carton, and he finds that he hates it less than he thought he would (Alex hates it the most, though. He takes to writing labels on everything in the fridge, and George can only humour him).

He learns that Will goes to sleep too late and wakes up too early, and falls asleep half-way through dinner on Sundays. He learns that Will has a folder on his phone, dedicated entirely the photos of the two of them, like they’re in Year Seven and trying to figure out how to love each other.

He learns that Will has always loved him back. And he realises that he’s always known, the same way that he knows he loves Will. George couldn’t imagine life without him, not anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading! like i said, this was a present so happy birthday <3<3<3<3<3 thank u for being so cool and lovely.
> 
> alas my friends thank u. i have gotten a lot of lovely lovely comments and they mean the absolute world to me - every single one. i just want to hug everyone who has ever left me a comment, ever. i love u. thank u.
> 
> anyway, working on a lot of new fics so they should be cropping up here and there. i cant wait to post them!


End file.
